


Unexpected

by Hello_Spikey



Category: Angel: the Series, Buffy the Vampire Slayer (TV)
Genre: F/M, Old Friends
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-25
Updated: 2012-11-25
Packaged: 2019-10-26 05:55:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,394
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17740235
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hello_Spikey/pseuds/Hello_Spikey
Summary: Willow comes to help when Fred falls ill, but is surprised when the first person she see is Spike — unliving and undusty.





	Unexpected

**Author's Note:**

  * For [rua1412](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=rua1412).



> This is for rua1412 who requested Spike/Willow, Angel season 5, and "smut, if possible."
> 
> As always, when I shoot for smut I get shmoop. UGH. What is wrong with me?

Willow didn’t know what to expect when she got to Wolfram and Hart. It wasn’t like Angel’s hotel at all, or even his detective agency. And though she wasn’t officially on ‘re-soul’ alert, she’d made sure to bring all the supplies, just in case. Buffy wasn’t sure about trusting Angel at all, now, and Giles was definitely on the ‘stay out of LA’ bandwagon, but Angel had said a friend was dying, so how could she not help?  
  
What Willow did not expect at all, of all the unexpected things, was Spike to rush up to greet her at the front door.  
  
Or rather, to grab her by the arm with only a moment’s distracted look and drag her toward the stairs. “Good, you’re here. Come on, I’ll take you to Fred.”  
  
The pressure on her bicep was undeniable, the cool fingers, and strong. “Spike!”  
  
“She’s in the medical center. You need incense and candles or what-not?”  
  
Spike seemed intent on ignoring her, though joy and confusion made her practically vibrate in his grip. So she did the only thing she could do and flung herself at him, wrapping her arms tight around his body. “You’re alive!”  
  
He stopped, of course, and swayed back a little alarmingly, so she thought for a second she had just bowled them both over, but he recovered and put his hands, gently, on her sides. “Still kicking, yeah. Guess I should have, uh, mentioned that.”  
  
Willow pulled back to give him her best serious face. “Mentioned?”  
  
He ducked his head and looked so embarrassed, which was adorable beyond words, so she hugged him hard again and kissed his cool, smooth cheek. “Never do that again.”  
  
“What, die?”  
  
“Yes. It’s stupid and overrated and I just forbid it. No more dying of any kind.”  
  
He gave the saddest little smile. “Right you are, love. No more dying.”  
  
There was so much more she wanted to say, but he just picked her up and carried her up the stairs. “Now, no more dawdling. Plenty of time to catch up after you have a look at Fred.”  
  
Willow felt weightless, in a way she hadn’t experienced since she was five years old and her father would carry her to bed. The stair-railings sailed past. “Uh… is Fred your girlfriend?”  
  
Willow didn’t want to examine why she was so relieved when he laughed. “Like I’d do that to Percy!” In a softer voice, he said, “She’s just a friend. A good person. She believed in me, even though she didn’t have much reason to.”  
  
Willow remembered Fred. She was very cute and super-smart and Willow was pretty sure anyone would want to date her, especially a guy like Spike, who pretended to be all brusque and street-smarts, but watched soap operas and told jokes with references to Shakespeare.  
  
Spike set her down at the top of the stairs, which she was a little sorry for, and led her down beige business-y corridors. They took a turn and pushed through double-doors and suddenly the beige and business-y-ness gave way to hospital smells and light blue. Before she knew what was what, Willow was standing in front of Fred, who looked small and bruised in the big white bed. Fred smiled with dry, cracked lips.  
  
“You have to save her,” Spike said, and Willow felt the mixture of pride and fear that came with power. She could do this. She had to do t his.  
  
Wesley was exhausting to work with – he had researched so much and half of it wasn’t very useful, but she let him lead her through his notes and they argued over spells. “We tried that,” he’d say testily.  
  
“Well, it wasn’t cast by me,” Willow replied, and he’d accuse her of being egotistical. “Magic cares who does the casting. I’ve studied this.”  
  
Reluctantly, Wesley gathered ingredients so she could try a few exorcism spells. It took all day. Each one fired off perfectly and did nothing. Though she thought she’d managed to banish a latent virus at one point.  
  
Her eyes felt all sore. Rubbing them, she muttered, “Let’s try it again, with witch hazel and sweet barley grass. The North American version.” She looked up to find Wesley asleep, his head pillowed on his arms against Fred’s bed. Fred’s thin hand lay over his, and she was asleep, too, for the time mercifully released from pain.  
  
Willow rubbed her eyes again and started setting out the ingredients.  
  
“Hey,” a soft voice called behind her. She didn’t turn to see who it was.   
  
Spike put his hand on her arm. “Leave it, witch. You need your rest.”  
  
“There’s another variation I can try.”  
  
“Save it. You’re half asleep. Might turn Percy into a toad by mistake.”  
  
Willow slapped his hand away. “Why is it always toads? I’ve never turned anyone into a toad, thank you very much. I wouldn’t even turn a toad into a toad!”  
  
Spike was unmoved by her words or her slap, and gently gathered her up into his arms, giving her a hug and a kiss to the forehead. “Come on, they’ve got a bed set up for you.”  
  
It was getting hard to hold her eyes open, so Willow let herself be led. “People who say ‘it works like magic’ have no idea what a pain in the butt magic is.”  
  
“Unreliable at the best,” Spike said. “But if anyone can wrangle it into behaving, it’s you, Red. Here we are.” He opened a door and Willow found, instead of an office, a cozy, well-appointed hotel room.  
  
Spike went ahead and stripped back the covers.  
  
Before he could slip out again, Willow stopped him with a hand on his chest. “Are you…” She bit her lip, unsure how to complete the thought.  
  
“I’m not going far. If you need anything, there’s a number on the phone. Service is frighteningly good on the dark side.”  
  
Willow groaned. She wanted to ask if he was just being so nice because he thought of her as a great big magic wand he could wave at Fred. She wanted to tell him how amazing it was that he’d survived, that he was really there. That his chest felt, well, nicely shaped under her hand. She cleared her throat, seeing the confusion in his eyes and sensing he was about to make another attempt to leave. “You just see me as a stick!” she blurted.  
  
One eyebrow went up. He was unfairly cute when he did that. “Is this a body-image thing? You’re gorgeous and snackable. Now go to bed.”  
  
Something about the deep, teasing way he said “snackable” made Willow decide there had been enough talking. She wrapped hear arms around his neck and planted a firm kiss on his surprised lips.  
  
“What was that for?” he asked, staring at her.  
  
“Being alive,” she said. “And snackable.” She held on, waiting for him to make the next move.  
  
He put his hands on her waist. “Haven’t you got a bit of a treat at home to snack on?”  
  
“God no. There was drama. You missed it.”  
  
“Sometimes it pays to be dead.” He tilted his head, smiling. “So I take it you’re asking for a little company?” He lowered his mouth to her ear, cool breath tickling her neck. “Is that exhaustion talking, or did my absence make the heart grow fonder?”  
  
“The exhaustion is kinda against any, um, snacking,” Willow admitted, resting her weight against the reassuring solidity of him. “But the rest of me is a whole lot fonder, yeah.” She looked in his eyes and found the courage to ask, “You aren’t just being nice to me because I’m a witch, right?”  
  
His chuckle was deep and resonant against her chest. He picked her up and spun her around. “Miss Rosenberg, I think it’s time I show you just how happy I am to see you.” He kissed her throat. “Just you, for being you.” He set her on the bed, so she was standing over him. He looked up at her. “Because friends fall away too easily, and all too rarely come back.”  
  
“That sounds like poetry.”  
  
“Nah, it’s life. But life can be poetic.”  
  
And he lifted her again, and settled down with her on the clean, firm bed, and spent the rest of the night showing her the truth of his words.


End file.
